


The Cobra's Lantern

by PairOPagans



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: AU, F/M, Other, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PairOPagans/pseuds/PairOPagans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lodge has kept an eye on the magical population for centuries, in an effort to keep magical and mundane separate and safe. But when the Goblin King steps out of line one too many times, new Lantern Na'Mira is assigned to his case. Between the goblin children, rogue Hunters and the tumor in her brain, Na'Mira is doubtful she'll survive the year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cobra's Lantern

There was no doubt about it; Mondays were definitely the bane of her existence.

Between waking up nearly half an hour after her alarm was supposed to go off, discovering the water in her apartment was ice cold, and then realizing, once she was finally able to arrive at work, that she was on interrogation duty… Well, by the time ten o’clock rolled around, Monday had pretty much been declared the shittiest day of the week. If there was one thing she hated more than her paperwork filled duties, it was the thought of having to share space with a Masque. Even worse, she was going to have to actually  _talk_ to one. The thought made her skin crawl, even as she slipped into the break room. 

One of her coworkers, a pudgy man in his early thirties, was standing near the coffee machine. He gave Na’Mira a sheepish smile as she grabbed a Styrofoam cup. “Late start?” She grunted, once, and he offered out the sugar. “So, um… About the Masque you’ve got…?”

She grunted again, taking the sugar and unceremoniously dumping a good helping into the black sludge. One could never under-sweeten the Lodge's coffee.

“I’ve heard he looks like David Bowie.”

Now that got her attention. Na’Mira grabbed a second cup, filled it with coffee as well. “David Bowie? Now that’s one I’ve never heard." She replaced the coffee pot onto the eye. "Does he sing, as well? Tried to play himself off as the real thing? Pass the milk, please.”

“Not from what I’ve heard.” He unscrewed the top and poured it for her, into the second cup. She waved him off when he neared the first. “Doesn’t seem to deny being a Maskey at all, actually. Rather strange." He tossed the empty milk carton into the trash, gave a small chuckle. "Then again, what do I know? I’m just a techie. The Boss says he’s on floor four-fourteen, and to keep an eye on him. She's worried about this one."

“Don’t I always?” Once both cups were adjusted to desired taste, Na’Mira lifted them from the counter, gave her coworker a nod, and started towards the elevator. "Tell the Boss she's got nothing to worry about."

Once she was at the elevator, Na'Mira was finally able to get a good look at herself -- and couldn't help but wince. God, she looked like crap. Even in the warped reflection of the metallic door, Na’Mira could tell the morning had not been kind to her. There were bags under her eyes, though barely noticeable beneath her dark skin, but still present. Her hair was kinky, and she made a mental note to treat it later that weekend. Natural hair was one thing; nappy was another altogether. She would not be seen with nappy hair, especially not with her evaluation coming up. 

Okay, no. No, now was not the time to think about her own appearance. That was for later, when she was able to lock herself in the lobby bathroom for fifteen minutes and attempt to tame her features. For now, she had a Maskey to interrogate and a job to do. Her hair could wait until Saturday. Maybe even Sunday. Until then, Na’Mira had more important things to focus on. Like what sort of Masque she was to expect. 

Perhaps it would be a Changeling. They loved to take on the forms of humans, especially ones seen as "popular" by the Mundane world view. What if he was just a Skinwalker, though? Talking them out of their new flesh was usually not a difficult task, but once they left, they left behind the flesh of the old face.  Ugh, cleaning up that mess was not going to be fun. Silently, she prayed for anything other than a Skinwalker. Faeries. She would even take a Faerie over a Skinwalker.

The elevator dinged.

Floor 414. She had not been to that floor since the start of her employment, almost six months before. The Boss had taken her down there while explaining the purpose of the Lodge -- to contain, interrogate and investigate the creatures known to possess magical qualities. She had been allowed to sit through one interview, and just one interview. After that, her days had consisted of reviewing charts and filing paperwork. Two weeks ago, she had been assigned to the Collection Agency; that was her first promotion, ever. She was allowed to  _interview_ Masques then, but only to verify what the interrogators had recorded. She had never been allowed to create her own file.

Na'Mira hoped this was a promotion.

The doors opened, and Na’Mira stepped out, into the hallway. George, her favorite security officer and occasional lunch buddy, was waiting outside The Cage for her. There was a hint of surprise in his eyes, as though her appearance was something he had not expected. But then it was hidden again, and he motioned for her to step forwards. Na’Mira flashed her badge at him as best she could, considering the two cups of coffee in her hands, and he waved his approval. After a brief exchange, most of which was just grumbles about Mondays and Maskeys, he moves to the side to allow her to scan her card. The card reader beeped once, as if thinking, and then brightened. The door hissed as it slid open, revealing the freshly-caught Masque floating in the middle of the room. Mira released a sigh.

She hadn't _really_  wanted a Faerie.

The woman quickly stepped inside the room, letting the door slide shut behind her, and lifted the cup in her right hand slightly. Though the Styrofoam in her left had already been tainted by dark red lipstick, the other was still white, untouched. A peace offering, of sorts. It was a traditional thing, between the Lanterns and the Masques. Offer something sweet, something that would catch a magical creature's attention, and they would grant you the time of day. Usually, anyways. Hopefully.

“Coffee?”

The Masque turned his head to her, looking her over, just as she did the same to him.

He was lean -- thin as a rail, really, with the jutting cheekbones and long body to show for it. His eyes seemed mismatched, as if one was darker than the other, but that… wasn’t quite the case. It was hard to finger what exactly it was, without getting a closer look. (And Na'Mira had no desire to get any closer to him than she already was.) Excepting that, and excepting the flamboyancy of the clothes he wore, he seemed almost normal. His expression was one of pure and utter boredom, and perhaps a bit of annoyance. His eyes slid over, surveying her carefully before he huffed a sigh, letting his lower half drop. His feet touched the ground, and he ran a hand through his slicked-back hair; red on top, blonde beneath.

“Does it have sugar?” His voice was smooth, almost quiet. His arms crossed over his chest. “I could use some.”

She nodded once, moving to the table in the center of the room. His feet were on the ground now, and that eased her mind, just a bit. Na'Mira did not care much for the tricks the Masques like to use; not at all, really. Flying, hovering -- if their feet weren’t on the ground, she didn’t care to talk to them. If they pulled their feet up off the ground, she immediately stopped the interview. Hopefully, this would keep his feet flat against the floor.

“Sweetened to taste, just like how you Maskeys like it.” Na’Mira placed the cup down on opposite side of the table, before taking the seat closest to her. She placed her own cup down. “I’m Na’Mira Williams. Welcome to the Lodge." The words were spoken quickly, crisply. As though she was reciting a script; far too stiff to be natural. “I do hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”

“All night, since you were gracious enough to ask.” He walked to the table; or, perhaps, _floated_ was a better word, even if was not literally true. Every move he made was practically ethereal, as though he was walking on air. Na'Mira's feelings of uneased returned. The Masque took the coffee, sipped it. “May I ask why I’ve been brought here? I don’t believe I’ve broken any rules you’ve put in place. I seduced a few people at the same time, that’s all, and no one got hurt. I was having fun. _They_ were having fun.”

As he moved, Na’Mira shifted her purse from her shoulder, to place it on the ground. After a bit of fumbling, she found and removed both her tablet and the pen that went with it. She began to scribble notes, not even pausing as she spoke.

“I was hoping you could tell me that, actually.” Reaching up, she pushed a curl away from her eyes. “Here at the Lodge, we are each assigned to our files and our situations. I know of you, but not why you were brought here. Please, enlighten me as to what you were doing and where you were when the Lanterns retrieved you.”

The smile he gave her was dripping in passive-aggression.

“Well, let’s see… I was bored, so I’d gotten myself a small gig singing in a bar, nothing too fancy. And there I met a woman -- well, three women. And two men. And someone who didn’t really choose to gender themselves, they were lovely.” He paced and sipped as he talked, not bothering with the chair. “Skipping the gruesome details, I awoke later in a hotel bed in a lovely pile of naked bodies in their afterglow, and from there went to take a walk. That’s when I was apprehended.”

“I see. So you seduced half a dozen individuals and then proceeded to leave them in the middle of a hotel room.” She continued to scribble the details down, using her unoccupied right hand to lift her coffee cup and bring it to her lips. Not enough sugar. “Are you a Bed Bug, then? Is that why the Lanterns picked you up?”

He snorted, seeming offended by the idea. “I’m a goblin. I don’t kill my partners.”

“Goblin, right.” She nods, once. Her pen taps on the screen a few times, as she pulls up the files dealing with the Goblin race. They only had a handful of names on record, but only one matching the description of the man in front of her. Her lips pressed together, into a frown. “It’s unlike you to make an appearance among the mortals, Goblin King.”

“Oh, good, you know who I am now.” The Masque rolled his eyes, but his lips pulled up, into a little smirk. Her shoulders stiffened. “In actuality, it’s very much like me to be amongst the mortals. Your organization just doesn’t tend to find me as easily.”

She quickly made that a note in his file, along with the added line of “ _Subject appears to have just a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Approach as one would a thirteen-year-old girl._ ” Knowing how well that would go with her superiors, Na’Mira quickly erased it. Better to keep personal opinions out of professional writing. She had no desire to return to the filing cabinet for the  _next_ six months of her life.

“It says here," she continued, ignoring the last sentence, "that you and your Goblins kidnap and raise human children. Is that still the case, Goblin King? Or have you changed your occupation to something more… musical?”

It was very clear that he wanted to scowl. His facial muscles twitched, but the expression never appeared. He was too dignified for that. Instead, the smile simply fell. His eyes were cold.

“You cannot steal what’s given freely to you.”

“The desperate cries of an exhausted mother do not equal consent to having her child taken from her arms.”

“It’s clear when it’s merely desperation that fuels them. When they legitimately want the child gone, that’s when I answer their requests.” He sighs, looking away. “I wouldn’t leave a baby in an environment where it’s unwanted and unloved. Would _you_? It’d be much better for them to find a home where they can be truly cared for.”

“And that’s what you do, then? Kidnap a child, erase it from existence, and pass it on to a different magical family. You make these human children into something they are not supposed to be. How very interesting.” She hasn’t stopped scribbling. After briefly glancing over the data in front of her, Na'Mira knew she had nothing substantial. Enough to warrant a warning, maybe even a citation, but they had no evidence of any wrongdoings. It made her sigh. “Well, I suppose we cannot hold you here if you are guilty of no crime… Nothing that can be proven, of course.”

Annoyance was clear on her face, in the way her brow furrowed. Not a single sign of softness showed behind dark eyes. She was trying so hard to stay a few steps ahead of him, to catch him on something. But, in truth, they had nothing on him. They knew who he was, what he did, but nothing he had done could be proven. The mothers never remembered their children, and the Goblin King himself was not going to admit to anything. It was just one vicious cycle after another.

The woman returned to her notes, and added, “Not without a mother’s testimony.”

“You’d be surprised how many of my kind were once human,” he murmured, a slight smile returning to him. “Either through marriage or adoption, they were changed. They just become part of our family. That’s wrong?” He raised a brow, not waiting for her to answer. “May I go, then?”

Na’Mira simply raised a hand, waving it towards the door. “Speak to George. He’ll guide you out of the building. You might have to fill out some paperwork first, of course. The Lodge needs to keep a record of every Maskey that walks these halls. And don’t forget to take the coffee out with you. I’m not your maid, Gobin King.”

He finished his coffee and nodded, crushing the styrofoam in his fist. The sound made her wince. He gave a sweeping and sarcastic bow, and it took all Na'Mira had to keep herself from lashing out at him, either physically or verbally. 

“My lady, I thank you,” he smirked. His eyes got an almost dangerous glint to them. It made her stomach go cold. “What did you say your name was?”

She paused, to glance at him, over him. For a moment, Na’Mira was quiet; she almost considered ignoring him. But then she sighed. She knew the Lodge’s rules. They were at full disclosure with the magical community, just as the magical community was said to be at full disclosure with them. Such were the rules between their races. Such were the rules the magical community often ignored. But she was better than them. She was a Lantern, and she had to act like one.

“Williams, Na’Mira.”

“It’s been an absolute pleasure, Na’Mira Williams. I hope to see you again. Preferably in more amiable circumstances.” That said, he made his way to the door, taking the crushed cup with him.

It took all she had not to stick her tongue out at him.


End file.
